Living History
by Negotiatrix
Summary: In 1895 the man formerly known as Hajime Saitou is now head of the security staff at the Tokyo Education Museum. How does the Wolf of Mibu deal with wayward children who do not stay where they should?
1. Chapter 1

All of my historical information came from Barbara Sheridan's Shinsengumi Headquarters site. I have deviated slightly from historical facts, but this is fan fiction after all, not biography!

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or stories of Rurouni Kenshin. This work is for entertainment and not profit.

* * *

Tokyo 1895 - Goro Fujita, formerly of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police, is now head of the security staff at the Tokyo Education Museum. His wife, Tokio, is an administrator and professor at the Tokyo Women's School which is affiliated with the museum.

LIVING HISTORY

It was a special day at Tokyo Women's Normal School. The elementary aged boys and girls of the lab school were to go to the Education Museum next door to view the displays. Their guide would be one of the professors from the Women's Normal School which taught older girls how to be teachers.

The museum building was large and imposing, in the Western style. As they entered the first floor, they were shown a large library. Most of the children were bored by books. They had their fill of books at school and were eager to see the natural history displays on the second floor. Jiro however, had to continually be herded back into the group by a chaperone. He kept trying to remove books from the shelves.

Next, the class passed into a large hall filled with the education displays. There were miniature American schoolhouses, desks, chairs, blackboards and even the strange, metal-pointed pens which Westerners used. The children were fascinated by the furniture which was so different from their own. One of the chaperones who had attended their school as a child told them that she had used just such Western things, but later the government had removed them. Jiro was indignant to hear this. To think, Japanese children had once had the chance to actually use Western things instead of just looking at them in a museum!

Finally the class was shepherded up the staircase to the natural history displays. Jiro knew it was just going to be a bunch of dead fish and rocks and things. He lingered at the back of the group and watched carefully for his opportunity to escape. As the first children reached the top of the staircase a cry of surprise and delight was heard. Immediately, the entire group began to push their way up to see the life-size stuffed tiger. The chaperone at the head of the line called out for someone to, "Get down at once!" The chaperone at the end went ahead to help. Jiro did not neglect this opportunity and ran back down the stairs.

At the bottom he turned the opposite direction from which the group had come, reasoning that anyone coming to look for him would retrace the group's steps. Jiro found himself in what seemed to be a wing of offices. His intent was to get back to the library and look at the books. He had noticed several about weapons of the revolution, but was prevented from looking for pictures. His parents did not own books. Their resources were stretched to the limit to enable Jiro to attend the special lab school. Lessons in swordsmanship were also out of the question financially. Jiro would much rather have had a sword and some books about the shoguns and samurai than school, but his parents did not agree.

Jiro stood at the end of the hall, trying to decide what to do. He hoped this hallway would take him back around to where the library was. Most of the doors were closed, but a few stood open. He couldn't hear anyone, so he decided that speed was the best option. He began to run down the hall, but when he heard voices from around the corner at the end, he panicked and dodged into one of the offices. Looking around wildly for a place to hide, he suddenly froze.

Displayed on a table against the wall was a sword. A real sword, encased in its sheath and displayed on a stand. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, or at least he knew it would be once he unsheathed it.

Jiro went past the desk to the table and examined the sword more closely. The leather and wrappings of the hilt and sheath were clearly worn with use, but still carefully polished and cleaned. What did the blade look like? Was it similarly scarred from battle? Jiro reached out a hand to pick it up. Just before he touched it he hesitated, not knowing quite why. He mentally shook himself, then confidently picked up the sword, and nearly dropped it. It was far heavier than he had expected. Using both hands now, Jiro carefully lifted it from the stand. He began to draw the blade, but quickly realized that his arms weren't long enough to pull it free of the sheath. He laid it down on the floor then, using a foot to hold the sheath, he was finally able to pull the sword free.

The metallic hiss of the blade coming out made Jiro's heart pound. Even without the weight of the sheath, the sword was heavier then Jiro could easily manage. He stood for a moment, the sword's tip resting on the wood floor, as he studied the blade. It gleamed so that it almost seemed to emit its own light. Carefully, he lifted the sword with both hands and attempted to hold it in what he thought would be a battle stance. Unable to hold that position for long, Jiro crouched back down between the desk and table and contented himself with examining the sword more closely.

After a few long moments, Jiro became aware of an apprehension within him. He strained to listen for anyone in the hallway, but there was no sound. He had stayed too long already, he knew. He stroked his finger along the blade one last time, then reached for the sheath. He stopped, filled again with the uneasy sense of something.

Jiro gripped the hilt of the sword once again and slowly stood, this time not even feeling the weight of it. As his eyes came level with the desk, he noticed the cigarette which was laying in a tray. It was still lit, smoke curling up slowly from its tip which was heavy with ashes. Obviously, the occupant of this office had not intended to be gone for long.

Jiro suddenly felt very sick as he refocused his eyes past the desk and on the doorway which was filled by a tall, dark figure.

* * *

Okay, so it's not a one-shot after all! The conclusion is coming soon. Look forward to it please!

-Neg


	2. Chapter 2

Why do I even bother to say how long a story will be? Not only is this no longer a one-shot, it's going to be more than two chapters also! Oh well. I hope you enjoy this next installment, wherein we met the mystery man and his wife. -Neg

* * *

Jiro suddenly felt very sick as he refocused his eyes past the desk and on the doorway which was filled by a tall, dark figure. The man stepped into the office and Jiro took a quick step back, his grip on the sword tightening. 

Piercing amber eyes that seemed to gleam with a predatory light held Jiro frozen in place. His imagination raced through several scenarios of what to do. They all ended badly for him. The small, rational part of his mind was telling him to just apologize, say he was lost, and ask for help finding his classmates. Another, previously unknown, part of himself raised the sword still higher and braced his feet apart. He could feel his arms shaking not only with the effort of holding it up, but a strange excitement as well.

After a charged moment of silence, the man spoke. "Well, are you going to come at me? Or are you going to frighten me away with the prospect of having to watch you flail about and cut your own foot?"he asked sarcastically. Jiro's eyes narrowed in unthinking resentment.

Before he even realized he had moved, Jiro found himself charging the stranger, being disarmed and then facing the business end of the same sword. The man held it easily in his left hand, almost as if it was an extension of his arm. Keeping the sword at Jiro's throat, he moved to the desk and retrieved his cigarette. His fierce eyes never left Jiro's as he brought the cigarette to his mouth and inhaled.

"This sword has tasted many men's blood, but not yet a child's. Perhaps today will be the day that it does," the man said. Jiro had no doubt that this man had certainly killed others. There was something about him that brought to mind battlefields and blood. He was all but panting with dread when his attention was caught by something else nearly as frightening. Tilting his head toward the door, he heard footsteps rapidly approaching.

"Your absence has been discovered," the man stated flatly, as he stabbed out his cigarette. Still without moving his sword arm, heused his free hand to opena desk drawer and swept the cigarette tray into it. A woman came to the door of the office just as he snapped the drawer shut.

"Goro! You need to come help us! And don't bother hiding that thing; I could smell it before I even entered the corridor!" she was saying as she appeared in the doorway.

The woman, dressed in old Japanese style, stopped when she saw Jiro and turned to someone in the hall. "He's here. You may take the class back now," she said quietly, then entered the office. Jiro recognized her as the guide for the tour.

Without a word she studied the strange tableau of man and boy. Then, staring pointedly at the sword, she raised an eyebrow. The man lowered the weapon to his side. Passing them both without a word, the woman went to the window over the table and opened it.

"Really, Goro! You could at least open the window and it wouldn't be so obvious!" she said finally, turning back around and putting her hands on her hips.

"I have nothing to hide from you, woman!" he replied harshly, but she was not disturbed by the gruff tone. She remained in front of the window, smiling slightly as the breeze ruffled her hair out of its elaborate style. The man called Goro leaned negligently against the desk, and defiantly produced another cigarette from his shirt pocket. The two adults continued to stare each other down and Jiro slowly began to edge toward the door, thinking they had forgotten him.

A gravelly, "I'm not finished with you, boy!" froze Jiro in place. The woman made a sound that could have been a laugh, but Jiro was afraid to take his eyes off the man to look at her.

"State your name," he was commanded.

"Kur- . . ." Jiro began to give his family name, but stopped, hoping that perhaps he could still leave his family out of this. "Jiro," he stated simply.

"Jiro," the man repeated thoughtfully. Finally looking away from the uneasy boy, he lit his new cigarette and smoked in silence. Jiro turned his attention to the woman. He remembered now that she had been introduced as Mrs. Fujita. This man must be her husband. Jiro realized that the woman was looking back at him; he dropped his eyes and blushed.

Breaking the silence, the woman asked, "What will you do with him, Goro?" There was laughter in her voice which made Jiro begin to think that he may avoid punishment after all.

"Well, he did run away from his group, trespass in a restricted area, tamper with private property and attack a museum official."

Jiro's shoulders slumped further with each item in the litany of his wrongdoings. The man sighed deeply, rolled his eyes heavenward, and added the crowning blow, "And I certainly can't let him get away with the insult to my Kunishige."

Jiro's eyes widened in awe at the mention of the famous swordmaker, Kunishige. He had actually held a Kunishige? He gazed at the sword, which the man still held, with a new appreciation. No wonder the sword had almost seemed alive in his hands.

Mrs. Fujita noticed Jiro's astonishment and spoke up in Jiro's defense, "See there? The boy didn't even know what he had!"

"Exactly," her husband replied. Taking a last, long drag on the cigarette, he raised the sword in front of him and looked speculatively from its blade to Jiro and back again. "I suppose someone must teach this nuisance what swords are made for," he said darkly. His eyes flashed yellow fire as he slowly pointed the sword's tip toward the boy.


End file.
